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Month: May 2013

I hope you do not see this because you are out having a good time… who are you looking at across the bar?

Stop looking. Go and say something.

Better…walk to her, put your hand on the small of her back and lean in, just a bit, inhale, let your chest rise, take in her scent, close your eyes briefly, turn away slightly, and then give her a nod and a grin, raise your glass and walk away…

Never mind…that’s my move…

It may not work for men.

She remembers when he used to watch from across the room, waiting for someone to make his move.

What good does it do me to be angry? This isn’t caused by what i’ve done or not done. God doesn’t send it. This is not a payback for some past misdeed. It’s cancer. It lives in us and sometimes, something triggers her and she’s set free to devour. It’s not a choice.

Ah, but there is much to learn from this experience with it…

Learning is the only good thing one takes from cancer; but i could learn in other ways. I don’t need cancer to teach me gratitude, kindness, caring. Who teaches with this severe approach? I don’t want to know them, know it.

You are handling it like everyone else, just plowing through…

I hate being like anyone else.

Then you are unique.

No, I’m stubborn. Cancer is selfish. it is a waste of his time, of my time. There are a million ways to learn selflessness, compassion, appreciation for science. This is not the way.

.

Sagittarius is incompatible with Taurus. He hates her stubborn. She hates his need for adventure. She slips her hand into his waiting, ever growing-bonier palm and recites Muir. When the morning comes, she tells him to put a smile on his lips, and only after, to open his eyes; and with this small act of stubbornness she sets the tone for the day.

Like this:

There’s really no need for it, but the dressing up ensues. The heels are picked out according to his height. The hair is brushed to take out the rain and the Tahari jacket is buttoned to the top, neatly pulled over the fitted camisole, conveniently hiding the black lariat necklace.

She slides in through the front door, spies him immediately, alone.

He looks up, unsure, then as she nods to the hostess, and confidently strolls across the room into his waiting arms, he pulls himself to full height. As he laughs she notes how his jaw pulls to the left when he allows his emotions to take over his face.

His lingering embrace allows her to judge his stature, to secure her nerves, to lock in an assessment of his strength in a few moves. Cheating, a bit, she inhales as they lock arms, detects no telling stories, wishes he had the drop to her knees effect, but knows his mind will engage hers and with it her weakness in his presence.

As she shakes the rain from her shoulders, she uses both hands to sweep her longest fingers across her cheekbones to clear the droplets from her face, while he leans in and breathes in his wordy exhale something about her beautiful eyes.

She casts her glance downward, nods forward to accept his compliment and graces his mind with how easily he creates a subtle shift in her tone and how comfortable she is with his nearness.

Forcing his mouth to emit words instead of a trail of kisses from her ear to her sternum, he pulls himself out of his thoughts and focuses on her moving hands as she tells her story. It doesn’t matter so much what she says, as how she says it…she could be telling him lies and extravagant ones at that, but he knows if she is here, and he is fully awake, the future is secure, just as his ability to read her is intact and his skill in defining her path is unshaken.

.

.

She allows one hand to find its way to the curve of her breast, where slowly, with her longest finger leading her mindful touch, she traces a path over each rib and down to the dip of her hip, where it meets the satin ribbon, the silk fabric and circles the last of the traditional attire of undress.

Like this:

Taking the first step inside, she squares her shoulders and lets her hips follow the tip of her boot, the motion shifting her body easily over the threshold. A touch on her back, he encourages her forward, allowing her to enter and make the statement he has crafted.

A nod to the small group near the back and a brief acknowledgement to the few stool-sitters to the right, he silently searches the room and accepts credit for her presence this evening before steering her gently by the elbow to the small table near the rear exit to the elevators.

The bartender has already made note of the entry; he knows who comes and goes, ably sizes up the public relationship based on what he’s seen before and casually busies himself in wiping up the back half so he can watch in the mirror a little longer.

Sitting at the tiny table her legs cross and uncross as she shifts her bottom from side to side and releases one pale arm from her jacket and then the other, shrugging it into his hands before snugly tucking her elbows to her side and resting her long fingers on the edge of the table. With a twist of her body, she looks over her shoulder, catches his eye and smiles comfortably and then laughs uncomfortably as he dips down to grace her with a kiss, then grazes her shoulder with his lips and then whispers in her ear, one more time, what he plans to do to her, with her, later.

.

.

She makes a gin and tonic, a double with a twist of lime, before reaching down to slip the straps of her slingbacks from her heels; rising, stretching, without thinking, into that arched position she often found assumed her vertebrae on Thursday evenings in the lounge.

When forced to make our own sunshine on these budding spring mornings, on these days when my plan has been unplanned by some heavy hand who clearly didn’t have coffee, I warm up, raise my cup, and with my warming hands greet the day with a smile before i even open my eyes.

Accept my gratitude for the day; it could be worse, so much worse. I’ve got no time on my side, just another lifetime, really. Who learns enough in the first 40 to forgo the last? It took a breath of time to get here, to learn who i am at my core. Who am i to reject 40 more?

I pull in my friends, pull them in close: What can you you share with me to bring me peace?

I rally when the sun sets, try to hold on to the days, so much promise and learning and laughter, i hate to let the hours go to sleep.

I drag myself through the evening, soaking in the wisdom i crave; words, adventure, wise men and my gut. What is not for me, is. I embrace them, thigh to thigh, and leap out of my comfort zone thinking this is the way to prove my openness.

Selfish learning, it calls me. I respond freely, thinking later. I cannot shake my obligation to my self. Army men and wild boys, are these my only mirrors?

Having taken the easy route, taken, more than my share, fairly, but unfair only to me, until today- when i toss the tables, trash the protocol, embrace the unknown. When was it I agreed to be managed by the common calendar, the weekly appointment book, the rules of the day contrasting the desires invading my nights?

Railing against the reality, i die a little bit each time i am like any other searching soul… and defiantly rise up each morn, sworn, to my own path until those little reminders of reality find their way into my vision…the backpacks in the front entry, the taxes waiting to be picked up, the sick friend, the errand to the pharmacy, the conscripted grocery run and regurgitated list, the stoic presence at each cause.

.

.

.

She lies in his bed, bathrobe thrown open, head back, arms outstretched and creates, embraces and memorizes every last opportunity.

In any regards I guess it comes down to I’ll bend you over fuck the shit out of you and just tune your

endless babble out until the next time I summons you to come please me and oh by the way get me

a beer on the way out the door.

Thank you

—

f7ck you

get your own damn beer.

and i got flagged.

And You’re Welcome.

—

Well thank you now thats the way to talk maybe not the way I want you to use your naughty mouth though.

Ok Ok Im a pervert but can also be very nice I like to fuck around.

Check out my post from oh 2 days ago I think looking for naughty wifes and?????

—

ahh.

there are several naughty postings out there. I’ve read them, wet, late in the night…

I apologize, but I’m not able to identify your specific bend-over ad, though, my friend kindly points out that you are probably just the kind of guy i’m interested in…if only i could find a way to speed up my common sense meter and verify “safe, sane and i can trust you.”

Tall order.

Exploration good. In over my head, not.

—

You needed a friend to tell you this all you had to do was ask me I would of

been honest with you. I am safe/sane fun/and oh get this respectful to you as a

person or piece of meat which ever you want to be. What other attributes should

a man have that you are in search of?

Oh yeah speed up that damn common sense meter and another one of my many talents

is a work on meters so if you need a service call let me know

—

Did they really get you wet?

What about them did?

—

Did I tell you I would wear a Super Mans cape to fix your meter,lol

Ok enough from me today have a great day

John Thick

—

Good morning how was your night?

Do you miss me yet?

Been thinking about how I would gag you and bend you over for a wild ride.

If I called you me naughty little whore in your ear would you fight back?

—

Maybe i would.

or

Maybe i’d like it.

but then i’d also tell you to fucking spell salacious correctly or you get no opp to bend me or get near my ear.

—

SALACIUOS

Ah ha

Now I will bend you over and say all kinds of naughty things in your ear

holding you down with my hands feeling you fight back saying no no but knowing

you want it and love it.

Then I will get the candles out pouring hot wax on you as you moan and fight me but

can’t get loose.

Do you know what I want to whisper in your ear ?

—-

You know you actually make me hot for you.

I can feel my cock swelling but not yet to full potential.

I think I need you do something to me. My cock is starting to

ache for you.

Whats your stats so I can think about you better

—

Everyone is hot for me.

i got 25 responses off that ad.

no, you don’t get my stats.

cuz you fucking won’t or CAN’T spell for me.

stop being a puss and salivating over what you can’t take.

and get your ass outta my inbox.

—

wow

There goes that naughty mouth again. Maybe I didn’t

spell correctly or correct enough for you but you seem like

the controlling type bitch that needs to be taken care of and

put in her place real good but thanks for talking and I will get out

of your fucking inbox. Have fun with all the twinks and poindexters

that you will find on here. Shit I thought you were better than what your

going to get fucking with them knobs.

Great luck you little whore

—

By the way I wouldn’t want to be in your in box you couldn’t handle

the fucking I would give you. You would probably fall in love with me

—

get butthurt often?

you want the last word so you can feel big and strong?

go ahead , send the final insult so you can walk away with your manhood intact.

i promise not to respond.

—

You know what

FUCK YOU you little bitch. You throw words around and reprimand people who might not

spell as well as you. Your a power trip chick who likes to control the situation anyway she can

because that’s what makes her pussy wet and makes you feel strong when deep down you want to give

up all control to someone else like me. Even if its only for a few hours being told what to do. You love having

me hold your arms being on top feeling you struggle and fight knowing that this is what makes your pussy

wet and all primed for me to shove my throbbing member into you. You will anticipate the first breaking of your pussy

as I slide into you. You want nothing more than to relax giving me the power and all you have to do is be my naughty whore